Head Above Water
by Sivan IXXX
Summary: Connor had fought so long to keep his head above water, but love wants to pull him under. One-shot Connorline.


**A/N: Just to get my creative juices flowing again...**

**Disclaimer: I dont own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't sue.**

**Head Above Water**

The war was over. Done with. Concluded. Finished to completion. Billows of smoke, the cries of despair and loss, the choking atmosphere of betrayal and suspicion-it was all over. Peace returned tothe colonies (now proudly called the United States of America, and brandishing a national flag), and the British Native American found himself in a mood he no longer understood, yet haddesired for so long. He never thought that this day would come again, that the pleasant stirring in his heart would resurface after being forfeited for so long.

With Achilles' passing, the all too familiar sense of loss and helplessness overwhelmed his being, and for a moment, he had lost his purpose. Without his mentor to guide him the way the stars would a wandering traveler, the notion to give up and follow his people west felt all too comforting. Then his allies, his friends, the Creed he had been trained to uphold, brought him back to reality, and he donned the iconic white hood once again.

Hunting down Lee had been more difficult than he had played out in his mind. It was either with one swift blow of his tomahawk, or a single arrow to the chest that he imagined that his enemy wouldsufer his death, and he would stand over him, watching as life crept away from his body. Achilles once told him that revenge wasn't the justice he sought, and that he wouldn't be sated with his death. He would come to regret killing him not too long after they had carried away his body from the tavern; he didn't know how long he stood at Lee's grave, wondering just how much of a threat he'd have been in the future, had he let him live. He probably would have returned home to England to rebuild their injured brotherhood.

Connor refused to let them have that privilege.

Several weeks passed since he last visited Lee's grave, and he found himself settling into a rhythm of sorts. More than a few came, and more than a few departed.

His allies and friends spoke of heading out west, chasing rumors that the land stretched on as far as the sunset could reach, and therefore new prospects lay ahead. Big Dave, Myriam, Prudence and many others bid him farewell and within a month, the familiar faces he had grown accustomed to disappeared, and they were a distant memory not too long after.

However, Dobby stayed behind, along with a few others to attempt to build their own Brotherhood and be prepared for future attacks. Putting his energies into this new endeavor helped him heal, to move on from the traumas of his earlier years, and he found himself consumed with being a Mentor and Master Assassin. Dobby was with him every step of the way, going great distances to recruit and establish hideouts throughout the United States.

She thanked him often for not turning away her help, and actually giving her a chance to do something worthwhile with her life. He accepted the gratitude, however awkward he felt by the praise, and eventually told her she no longer needed to thank him, because he was grateful for all the hard work that _she_ did.

Somewhere along the way, their relationship began to blossom, and he found himself quite comfortable with her presence, and she with his. They trained the recruits as a joint effort, and their common goals brought them closer together. Intimacy was not quite the word he wanted to use, but it was not long before that too began to describe what was forging between them.

Connor felt another side of him awaken with her, and though he had never felt this way, he embraced it wholeheartedly. He thought it had died along with his mother all those years ago, and Deborah had managed to kindle the embers that had been smoldered by years of hardship. This close companionship, this familiarity and comfort, he could get used to it.

Then suddenly, it all ended, and she was gone. Forever. From that point on, he felt numb, and the lush green meadow that had formed in his heart became a barren field of snow.

His recruits attempted to occupy his mind, free him of his somber disposition, but it was to no avail. With a lack of motivation, and a leader, they packed up and moved on in order to rebuild the Assassins themselves. And Connor found himself alone again.

A full winter passed before she came knocking on his door.

He hadn't seen her in nearly ten years, but she remained virtually unchanged from what he could tell from his second story window.

Rather than hurrying down the stairs to greet her, he watched her as she circled the manor, looking in every window for signs of life. Apparently, she knew someone still lived there, what with how she began to climb the rear of the house and pull herself over the ledge of the balcony.

He knew he would appear very silly, hiding in his own home from her. She would find him eventually; he remembered clearly that she possessed the same gift as him.

So rather than continuing to hide in the shadows, Connor appeared before her just as she was about to descend the stairs.

They stood in silence for a moment, observing one another. She studied his face with keen interest; the only time they had spent together, his hood obscured his features from view.

He invited her down to the study to sit by the fireplace and rest before they talked about her reasons for being there.

Connor hoped he didn't have to say much, and thankfully, she took the lead in the conversation and informed him that her father had died, and she didn't have rights to any of his property, including his home, and she was without somewhere to stay. Her partner, Gerald Blanc, had passed away from the fever, and his assets were liquidated and given to the local government.

She promised not to stay for more than a few months, while she figured out where she would be headed next, considering she wasn't free to buy land and settle wherever she chose. While her father may have been French, her appearance told the colonists otherwise.

If he were at any other stage of his life, the idea of sharing a home with a woman would have made him bristle. But now, he didn't care.

He showed her where the washing facilities were kept, as well as the kitchen and one of the bedrooms she would be using during her stay.

At first, she was very uncomfortable, and somewhat shy. With the aggressive way she pounced on her enemies, this came as a surprise to him, but such vigor was necessary and crucial in battle. She was a woman, after all, and subject to having softer qualities, as well.

They ate in uncomfortable silences, and passed by one another in the hallways without so much as a nod of acknowledgment from either person.

He knew the day would come when she asked where everyone else had gone, and so he prepared to give her a brief, concise explanation.

So the day that she did inquire, he simply told her everyone moved on, past the Homestead, past the boundaries of the United States.

_And past him._ Each time the subject was brought up about his solitary life, he sought ways to end the conversation before anything reminiscent of a feeling surfaced.

Eventually, his green-eyed roommate understood that it was a very sensitive subject, and left him to his devices, which consisted of mostly nothing but hunting and reading. At one point, she became so careful and quiet in her movements that he figured she had moved on like everyone else. But, at the sound of soft humming coming from the kitchen and the clatter of pots and pans, he was proven wrong.

For one reason or another, that brought a warm feeling to his chest, but he quickly dismissed it.

She began to cook more often, and he found himself being drawn in by the smells, foreign but pleasant. They ate together as usual, and he would promptly say thank you before he ate and complimented her skills. His eyes never met her face, though he could tell by her stammered responses that she was blushing.

A time came when she started to read in the study, and he was surprised to see her curled up on the couch with one of the classics. She encouraged him to stay, and so he did, reading a novel of his own.

One night, after hunting all day for the next week's supper, Connor came across her sleeping form in the study, a book laid flat on her chest. He felt a small tug at the corner of his mouth as he took the book and replaced it on the shelf.

She looked slightly uncomfortable with her legs curled awkwardly on the couch, and he moved to help her, but halted himself immediately.

Finally, he went for her, and scooped her into his arms. She was as light as a feather.

Carefully, he took her up to her room, and laid her on top of her covers. He hesitated for a moment, watching her as she slept.

In battle, he didn't really have time to look at her, and even over the span of the past few months, he didn't really stop to take in her appearance.

But now, he was able to study her features more closely. He had never really considered any woman beautiful, or attractive for that matter, but those words seemed to fit Aveline perfectly. He knew that she was some years older than him, but they looked the same age.

Something stirred inside him, and he closed his eyes and walked away.

Connor cursed himself for showing such kindness that night, and wished he could have taken it back. From that gesture on, he couldn't stop watching her as she flitted about the manor, humming and cleaning and smiling to herself. His better judgment told him to stop before this need escalated into something more, but his heart had been deprived for some time.

And there were many a time when she would be completely innocent as to his gazing, and wonder why he would dismiss himself so quickly when she caught him. Connor didn't know why he was acting so foolish, why he couldn't look at her anymore, why he couldn't stand to hear her sultry voice for more than a minute.

Aveline began to think she had done something wrong, and so she decided that she would be out of his home before May. That was just a week away.

The Native found himself panicking. The idea of being alone again was unpleasant, yet the option to ask her to stay was akin to a death sentence, as well. So he fought with himself for three days, and then an event occurred that made him come to the right decision.

He heard her scream, and knew immediately that she was in danger. She had gone out into the forest for a walk, without the provision of her weapons (he had silently wished she would use her better judgment, even with the threat of the Templars at bay), and so now she needed his help.

Like a madman, he dashed through the forest, ignoring the stinging sensation of branches and trees marring his skin.

A large black bear had her cornered and pushed against a large boulder. Thankfully, she didn't look injured, but she had a look of terror on her face.

He stepped on a fallen branch, and the massive creature turned to him and reared back on its legs. Connor removed his bow and fired an arrow into its chest. Unfazed, the animal barreled towards him and knocked him off balance.

Just before the bear could clamp down on his neck, he unsheathed his hidden blade and jammed it through the roof of its mouth.

It let out an agonizing cry, and he ended its misery quickly with another stab. Aveline whimpered, and he remembered why he had rushed out there in the first place.

He turned to her just as her legs gave out under her, and scooped her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck, angry at herself for not bringing her weapons, for forgetting that there were more than Templars to worry about in the world.

Connor remained silent, contemplating how he would have reacted, had he gotten there too late. He refused to entertain the images threatening to appear in his head. Not after...not after...

He wouldn't let it happen again.

When they reached the manor, he set her down on the couch in front of the fireplace, and began his search for scratches and blood immediately. She assured him that she was fine, just rattled and embarrassed, and his golden brown eyes closed in relief as he pressed his forehead to hers. They had never been so familiar with one another, but he was tired of fighting himself. He just wanted to give in to his feelings; he wanted to give in to her.

"Please stay," he pleaded softly. She didn't hesitate to say that she would, and he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. The action caused her to look up at him curiously, and his eyes revealed to her all she needed to know. It was no surprise when they shared a warm, tender embrace.

Connor had fought for months to keep his head above water, and it was that night that he let himself drown.

* * *

**Hi guys! Sorry I haven't posted anything new for a while. I've been so busy, so this little shorty is to get my juices flowing again.**

**So this is another version I came up with of how Aveline and Connor met up again after their only mission together in 1777. He became embittered by the death of Dobby; clearly, he was starting to like her as more than a friend and just as he was beginning to delve into a romance with her, she died. Clearly, it was an accident and he failed to save her, and that's what was keeping him from wanting to get close to Aveline. But we see her natural Girl-Next-Door charm melted that hard exterior!**

**So I should be able to update Shadows soon, hopefully. I really do want to explore her relationship with Connor the firecracker and the disappearance of her sister. **


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